Glory Days
by RussianWolf7
Summary: Olivia and Elliot get stranded in the middle of a snowstorm. Cliches are fun if you know how to do it well One of my first SVU stories play nice.


**Title: **Glory Days, Day One

**Pairing: **Olivia/Elliot, eventually

**Warnings:** Probably sex later, but nothing for now.

**Word Count: **6,236

**Rating:** PG-13

**Spoilers:** None

**Disclaimer:** Olivia and Elliot are Dick Wolf's. Glory Days is Bruce Springsteen's. The ideas are mine.

**Author's Note: **I thought about this for a really long time before writing it, and I'm not sure if I'm going to keep going. Let me know if you like it?

_Glory Days: Day One_

­Olivia was most of the way asleep when the cruiser started spinning. She sat up, grabbing her seat as Elliot swore, trying desperately to control the spin. The car kept going before slamming into a telephone pole with a loud thunk. Elliot ran his hands through his hair, turning to his partner. Olivia's eyes were huge, and she was still gripping the seat.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, I think so. What happened?" she replied.

"Goddamned snow," Elliot said angrily. "Snow tires my ass."

"Told you we should've listened to the sheriff," she said, letting just the right amount of contempt creep into her voice.

Elliot glared at her. "Hey, it was Cragen's idea to send us to Montana in the middle of winter, not mine."

Olivia sighed. "Just radio for help, would you?"

Not looking away from his partner, he picked up the radio. "This is Stabler, come in."

Nothing but static.

"We have an 11-82. Repeat, no injuries, but we're gonna need a tow truck."

Still nothing.

"Hello? Is anybody there?"

There was still no response. Elliot put the radio back into its holder and slammed his hands down on the steering wheel. The horn blared, and Olivia jumped. He continued to hit it, letting out a series of staccato bursts, followed by another prolonged blast.

"Elliot, I don't think–"

­

"Any better ideas?" he snapped, turning to face her.

Knowing that yelling back wouldn't help, she said calmly, "I saw a house a mile or so back. It'll be warm, and more comfortable than spending the night in a cruiser."

Elliot looked her over. The thin sweater she had on was hardly enough to keep her warm in this sort of weather. "Tell me you have a coat."

"In the trunk," she said. "Come on." She got out of the car and immediately shivered. Of course there were storms in New York, but nothing like this. The wind cut through the little she had on, chilling her. Keeping her head down, she went around to the trunk of the car. It didn't look promising. The trunk had accordianed when they hit the pole, and the odds of it opening any time soon were close to zero.

Elliot appeared next to her, surveying the damage. He closed his eyes, running a hand down the side of his face. "Have mine," he said, taking off his coat and holding it out.

Olivia shook her head. "No way. I'll be fine; it's not that long a walk."

"Absolutely not. We are not leaving this car until you put it on."

The look in his eyes alone was enough to convince Olivia that she wasn't going to be able to change his mind. And by the time she was wrapped in the warmth, she didn't want to give it back anyway.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" she asked, knowing she should at least try. He was wearing a black sweater, and jeans. Not exactly optimal blizzard clothes.

"Let's just get moving."

-

By the time they turned down the driveway, they were both frozen. Even in the coat, Olivia felt every gust of wind, every snowflake that landed on her, every breath that felt like inhaling ice. It didn't take long at all for the snow to start leaking into her pumps, and she had stopped being able to feel her feet a mile or so back. She hadn't told Elliot; he had already given her his coat, and she didn't want to take his boots, too. Even if they did look deliciously waterproof.

Not that he was doing much better. His sweater was soaked through, clinging to him. The jeans were drenched up past the knee, turning them a dark, almost sinister shade of blue. His exposed skin had turned a startling shade of white except for the tips of his ears and nose, which were bright red. She was actually thankful for that – better red than black. But it was obvious that they both needed to get inside, and fast.

It was another five minutes before they reached the house, and Olivia's hope was fading. All of the lights were off, and there was no car at the end of the driveway. She glanced at Elliot, but he didn't notice, just kept going. Numb fingers found the doorbell and rang. Chiming came from inside, but no answering footsteps, and the door didn't open. He pushed the button again, letting it ring for a good thirty seconds. Nobody came to the door.

Olivia wrapped the coat tighter around herself and sat down on the steps, making sure to sit on the jacket and not the snow. "Great."

Elliot didn't reply. Instead he started digging through the snow, hoping he'd be able to feel what he was looking for.

"Elliot, what are you doing?" she asked, twisting so she could look at him.

"Key. There must be a spare key around here somewhere."

Olivia stared at him. "I am not breaking into someone's house."

He spun around, eyes shining and hectic spots of color on his cheeks. "You'd rather freeze to death than go inside?"

She opened her mouth to reply, then closed it. He was right. Muttering angrily under her breath, she joined him, hunting for the spare key. Ten minutes later when they still hadn't found it she stopped, leaning against the house.

Elliot looked up, concern replacing anger. "Liv? What's wrong?"

"I'm fine." She yawned. "Just tired. We've been out here for so long, and…" She trailed off, eyes slipping shut.

He was instantly by her side, putting his hands on her shoulders. Her eyes opened, dark brown surrounded by skin that was too pale. "You can't fall asleep. Do you understand me?"

"I'm so tired," she said, her voice hardly more than a whisper, nearly lost in the howling wind. "And so cold."

Elliot stood up, looking around. There was nothing, only endless white that was starting to fade in the coming night. He glanced at Olivia, knowing what he had to do. Getting as much traction as he could, he kicked the door below the lock. It shuddered, but didn't open. He kicked again, knowing that if this didn't work, they were as good as dead. The door cracked, but still didn't open.

_Frozen. The goddamned thing is frozen shut._

"Once more," he said to himself. "One more, and then we're in."

He kicked, putting all of his strength behind it. The door finally opened, blowing inward with a bang. He smiled, turning back to his partner. Her eyes were closed again, and her face was going from white to grey.

"Fuck," he said, kneeling so he was at face level. He tapped her cheek gently, trying to wake her up. When she didn't respond, he picked her up, carrying her into the empty house.

-

Elliot kicked the door closed behind him, sending himself into blackness. He blinked quickly, knowing he had to work fast. From what little light there was, he made his way into the living room, and lay Olivia down on the couch. Attempting to think objectively, he ran over what he had learned in the Marines. Getting them warm was the first thing, of course, but wasn't there something about not doing it too quickly? And how was he supposed to do that at all in a house that clearly had no electricity? The one thing he did remember was that it was key to take off any wet clothes. He eyed his partner, wishing there was some way around it. But her health was more important than any sense of propriety so he got started, first removing his coat and then her pumps.

He nearly gasped when he saw her feet and socks. They were completely soaked, and even in the dim light, he could see that some of her toes were shiny. He quickly got the rest of her clothes off, military training overtaking any sense of panic. He covered her with a blanket he found on the back of the couch, making sure to tuck her feet in.

_Warm water,_ he thought. _I need warm water and blankets. Probably candles, too._

Elliot raided the first floor, finding matches and candles in the kitchen, and more blankets in what appeared to be a guest bedroom. He covered Olivia with the blankets and lit two of the candles, one of which he left on the coffee table, using the other to examine the room more closely. A fireplace was on the far wall and he went to work lighting a fire, trying to keep himself from dripping on the wood and candles.

By the time he finished, he realized that he was still wearing soaking wet clothes, and that at some point he had started shaking. He stripped, putting his clothes in a pile with Olivia's by the fireplace. Taking one of the candles, he went upstairs in search of warm clothes. He opened the first door he came to and slammed into shelves, scattering their contents everywhere. Cursing, he kicked the stuff on the floor out of the way and tried the next door, being more careful.

The master bedroom was beautiful, but Elliot hardly noticed. He set the candle down and made a bee-line for the wardrobe, looking through the clothes for something in his size. Stuffed in the back of a shelf he found an oversized tee-shirt and flannel pants that looked like they might actually fit him. He pulled them on, sighing at the soft fabric. He was still shaking, but he could feel the warmth slowly spreading though his body, and he knew that he'd be okay.

Olivia was another story. The shininess on her toes looked too much like frostbite for his taste, and her face taking on that ashy grey tint wasn't a good sign. He went back to the wardrobe, looking for something for her. It was only half full, and none of what was there looked like it would fit her. He slammed the doors shut, enjoying the crash. He looked around the room, looking for some sort of bureau, or anything else where clothes might be kept.

Elliot rolled his eyes; he hadn't noticed that he put the candle down on a dresser. He ransacked the drawers, and this time he found exactly what he was looking for – fleece pajama bottoms and a sweater made of something soft. He went back downstairs and dressed Olivia, too worried about her to care that she was naked. She was still freezing; her skin felt like ice, and her cheeks were still grey. Her hair was soaking wet, but that at least was something he could fix. He got a towel from the pile of stuff that had fallen out of the linen closet and dragged a chair next to the couch. He toweled her hair dry and carefully brushed it back, keeping it out of her face. If it weren't for her color, she'd have looked almost peaceful.

Elliot leaned back in the chair, suddenly realizing how tired he was. There were a thousand more things that needed to be done – looking for a generator, making sure they had enough food and water and trying to find some way of contacting the outside world were at the top of his list – but just sitting down and relaxing felt so good. A quick nap couldn't hurt, and maybe even help. He closed his eyes, and it wasn't long before he fell asleep.

-

Elliot woke up with a jerk. He was disoriented; at some point the candle had gone out, along with the fire. It was pitch black, and there were strange noises coming from next to him. He stood up, reaching for his gun. Instead of the comforting holster, he felt the flannel of his pants. After a moment of confusion, he remembered where he was, and why he didn't have his gun. The noises were Olivia, who was moaning quietly. He still hadn't found any flashlights, so he felt his way back to her, still almost completely blind.

She was where he had left her, lying on the couch. But while he was sleeping she had kicked off all the blankets, and they lay puddled on the floor. He felt her forehead, even though he knew what he was going to find. She was burning up.

"Olivia, can you hear me?" he asked, resting a hand on her cheek. "Liv?"

She didn't say anything, instead leaning against his hand. Her moans quieted, and he took that to be a good sign.

"I'm going to go find some medicine, okay? I'll be right back."

Elliot stood up and carefully made his way back to the kitchen. Eventually he found a flashlight stuffed behind extra rolls of paper towels. He tried the downstairs bathroom first, but all that was in the medicine cabinet was extra soap and a box of tampons. He went back upstairs, pausing to move the stuff he had spilled to the side so he wouldn't trip over it. The bathroom off the bedroom was better stocked, but not by much. He found a half empty bottle of Ibuprofen on one shelf and brand new Tylenol. He grabbed it and went back to Olivia, shaking out three, then four tablets on his way.

"Liv, I found Tylenol," he said, propping her head up. "Take these; they should help." He put them in her mouth and, to his great relief, she swallowed.

He rocked back on his heels, trying to decide what to do next. If there was a generator, that would go a long ways towards solving their problems. The phones would still be out, of course, but there would be heat, and a stove to cook on. He wouldn't mind a shower, either, but not yet.

Taking the flashlight with him, he found a coat in the hall closet, and boots. They were a little tight, but at least they were warm. Preparing himself for the worst, he opened the front door and stepped out into the storm. He couldn't tell if it was still snowing because the wind was blowing so hard. He tightened the hood and started around back, walking into the wind.

At least the generator wasn't hard to find. It hunkered against the side of the house, underneath an eave. He fumbled with the many buttons and levers until it finally roared into life, sending more snow flying into his face. Lights in the kitchen suddenly came on, flooding the outside with light. Grimacing, he realized there was a back door. He tried the door but, of course, it was locked, so he trudged back around, going through the front door and into the kitchen. He shook himself off, spraying water everywhere and not caring. He took off his coat and boots, leaving them by the door incase he needed to go back out.

At the sight of the refrigerator, his stomach started rumbling, reminding him he hadn't eaten since lunch, whenever that had been. Hoping the power hadn't been off for too long, he opened the door and surveyed the contents. A jar of pickles was in the back, along with a jug of orange juice that looked past its prime.

_Great. Just fucking great._

The freezer was better equipped – a frozen capon, which looked delicious and a variety of other frozen foods. A quick examination of the cupboards revealed that they, too, were well-stocked, supporting his theory that whoever lived here was visiting family for the holidays. A long visit, enough to get rid of perishables and to take half a wardrobe full of clothes, but not long enough to actually clean house.

Elliot found a large can of chicken soup and a pan, and started making himself dinner. Maybe Olivia would have some if she woke up. _When,_ he told himself. _When she wakes up. _The warmth from the stove was wonderful, as was the smell of food. It didn't take long to heat up, and after a maddening search for bowls, he poured himself a good portion, and brought it back into the living room. Olivia had regained some of her color, and was once again sleeping peacefully. He thought about trying to wake her up to eat, then decided she should probably sleep.

_You're just scared she won't wake up._

Elliot pushed the thought aside, knowing that nothing good would come of thinking like that. He felt her forehead again, and sighed in relief. She was still warm, probably too warm, but nowhere near as hot as before.­ The Tylenol was working. Reassured, he started eating.

-

By the time he was done and had washed the dishes, he decided he had earned himself a shower. He threw another log on the fire and went upstairs, stopping by the linen closet to grab another towel. In theory, he should clean up the pile of stuff he had knocked over, but he could deal with that later. He went into the bedroom and turned the lights on, happy to use them instead of the flashlight.

The room was beautiful, if not his style. The bed was large, most likely king-sized, and made of knotted wood. The walls were also wood, as was the dresser and wardrobe. A vanity stood against one wall, painted a dark green that matched the blankets on the bed. Photos, presumably of family, hung on the walls, giving life to the room.

The bathroom was just as nice, and considerably more modern. It was huge, which he appreciated. Coming from a family with a wife and four kids, three of them girls, bathroom size was always important. A bathtub stood by itself, complete with claw feet. The shower was opposite, clean cut chrome that glinted in the light. He envied the double sinks; even though he and Kathy weren't together anymore, he remembered how much he had wanted them before. Towels hung next to the shower, dark green with gold letters embroidered on them. One E and one O. He smiled at the irony before climbing into the shower.

-

Olivia woke up slowly, first registering the crackling of a fire, then the wind blowing outside, finally the smell of chicken soup. She opened her eyes, pulling herself into a sitting position. Her head ached and her toes were tingling, but at least she could feel them. All in all she didn't feel nearly as bad as she thought she would. Maybe Elliot had given her something while she slept, a concept consistent with the clammy feeling of having had a fever recently.

Speaking of Elliot, where was he? A quick glance around the room confirmed the fact that he wasn't here, along with the realization that she shouldn't move her head that quickly. But he had left her a bowl of chicken soup, which she started eating. In the background, barely audible over the fire and the wind, she heard water running. _A shower. Of course. I could use one of those myself, actually._

She finished her soup quickly, and stood up, hoping to take a look around. Her head started spinning, and pain shot through her feet. She sat down heavily, a small moan escaping. The pain reduced to a thudding ache and the room slowly stopped spinning. Apparently she wasn't quite as healthy as she thought she was. She rested her hands on her legs, steadying herself.

She stopped, suddenly confused. Fleece pajamas? Alpaca sweatshirt? Definitely not what she had been wearing before. She saw the pile of wet clothes my the fireplace, and blushed, realizing what Elliot had done. Of course it had been necessary, but still… She tried to stand up again, more carefully this time. As long as she kept off her toes, it really wasn't that bad. And with the aid of nearby walls, she managed to walk without getting too dizzy.

Olivia stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up. Just the sight of them gave her vertigo, but the idea of a warm shower was incentive enough. Summoning all of her strength and courage, she started up. _This isn't that bad,_ she thought to herself, leaning heavily on the banister. _I can do this no problem._ But apparently not, because by the time she reached the top step, she was sweating, hardly able to take another step. She thought about sitting down to rest, but she heard the water stop running, and her pride wouldn't let her stay here, leaving Elliot to find her. If he had made it from the car to the house without even a coat, she could damn well walk another twenty or thirty feet to the bathroom.

That was before she tripped over a bottle of shampoo. She screamed in pain, reaching for the wall to steady herself. It seemed to move away from her, staying just out of her reach. She managed to maneuver herself so she fell against the wall, sliding down it as tears streamed down her cheeks. The hallway was fading to grey, everything disappearing into blackness as the ringing in her ears grew and the pain in her feet faded.

-

Elliot heard the scream, and the thump that accompanied it. He wrapped the towel around his waist as he sprinted out of the bathroom and though the bedroom. He found Olivia in the hall, slumped against the door. She had tripped over something, one of the many things he hadn't bothered to put away, and had fallen.

_My fault,_ he thought. _My fault, my fault, my fault._

"Olivia?" he asked, again kneeling down to her level, again tapping her cheek, praying she'd wake up. "Liv? Wake up."

Her eyes fluttered open, meeting his grey blue ones. "Wh-what happened?" she asked, sitting up. "I was coming upstairs so I could take a shower, but then…"

He winced. "It's my fault," he said. "I never cleaned all this up, and you tripped. I am so sorry, I–"

"It's fine," she said, smiling slightly. "Really." She shifted, tentatively putting weight on one of her feet. She hissed, biting back more tears. "I'm not sure I can walk, though."

Elliot stood up, wrapping the towel more firmly around himself before putting an arm around her waist to help her up. "Lean on me," he said, not asking. Olivia smiled, doing as he said. Even if she had been able to support herself, it was obvious he wouldn't let her. He led her into the bedroom and set her down on the edge of the bed. "I can't believe you tried to get up here without me," he said, half mumbling.

Olivia rolled her eyes. "Just because I'm a little sick doesn't mean I can't–"

"More than a little," he interrupted, sitting down next to her. "Let me see your feet." Deciding it was better not to argue she swung her legs up on the bed, depositing her feet in his lap. He checked each foot carefully, examining her toes one by one. She closed her eyes, leaning back and enjoying the attention. He was gentle, making sure not to hurt her, and just the tenderness was enough to make up for her falling.

Elliot made disapproving noises in the back of his throat. "You need to see a doctor," he said. "It's good that you can feel something, but I don't trust it."

Olivia sighed. "I'll be fine. I just need to stay off them." She smiled. "I guess a shower's out of the question, right?"

"Yeah, I don't think so," he replied, taking on the tones he used with Kathleen. "If you promise not to get up, I'll run you a bath, okay?"

Olivia raised an eyebrow, amused. "Planning on helping me in?" she asked.

"If I have to, yes." He stood up, heading back to the bathroom. "Wait here."

She lay back on the bed, both pleased and annoyed by his overprotective nature. It was sweet that he took care of her, and that he cared so much, but if he was planning on being this controlling the entire time, it was going to drive her insane.

Elliot emerged a few minutes later wearing an oversized tee-shirt that said _Moab, Utah!_ in big letters across the front and plaid, flannel pajama pants. "Water's running. It should be ready in a few minutes."

Olivia continued to eye him. "You're really going to escort me into the bath, aren't you?"

"It's not like I've never seen a naked woman," he said. "It's not even like I haven't seen you naked before. I'd rather embarrass you than have you hurt yourself. Your pride isn't worth that."

"And yours is?" she said, the words coming out sharper than she meant them too. "It's because of your pride that we're stuck here in the first place."

Elliot's eyes flashed. "If you don't want to take the goddamned bath, tell me now, so I don't waste anymore hot water."

She locked eyes with him for a second before turning away. "Jesus Christ, the size of that ego," she muttered. "Fine. Whatever. But I'm not getting undressed with you watching. Go turn the water off or something."

Elliot left, not quite slamming the door behind him. Olivia glared moodily at it for a second or two before pulling off the sweater and pants. She brought her knees up to her chest, knowing that she was being childish. But having him undress her when she was unconscious was a lot different from leaning on him when she was naked. She knew it was stupid, but it didn't help.

He came back out a few minutes later, holding a towel. "Here."

"Thanks." She wrapped herself in it as best she could while sitting down, then held out a hand. Elliot took it, and helped her up. Again, he wrapped an arm around her waist, supporting her as he led her into the bathroom.

"You shouldn't stay in too long," he said. "The heat right after the cold isn't good for you."

"Which is why I didn't take one when I first came inside," she replied. "Besides, I can see it didn't stop you from showering."

Elliot settled for glaring at her, knowing she was right. They had reached the bathtub, and she shifted uncomfortably in his arms.

"Are you going to stay here the entire time?"

"I want to make sure you're safe."

"I'll take that as a yes," she muttered, letting the towel slide down and carefully lowering herself into the tub. The water felt amazing, enveloping her in warmth. It made her feet sting so she kept them out, resting them on the edge of the tub.

"Could you hand me the soap?" Olivia asked, keeping her gaze on the far wall.

She heard Elliot get up, look through the shower, then hand it to her. "And don't even think about offering to help," she cautioned as she started to wash herself. "I can handle a bar of soap."

"Never said you couldn't," he said, sounding amused.

She finished as quickly as she could, then put the soap back into his hands. "Shampoo, please."

He handed it to her and she washed her hair, actually enjoying the fruity smell of the shampoo. It was rinsing it that turned out to be a problem. She couldn't get her head under the water without getting her feet wet. Blushing horribly, she turned to Elliot.

"Could you, um, help me?" she asked, barely meeting his eyes. _At least he has the decency not to say anything,_ she thought to herself. He cupped his hands, gently pouring water over her head.

"Close your eyes," he said quietly.

She did as he said, relaxing into the rhythm of the water. She had forgotten that he actually knew what he was doing, having raised four kids. It was almost nice, being pampered like this.

"Do you want me to condition it, too?" he asked.

Olivia nodded, not wanting to talk. The conditioner was cold, and his hands were strong and steady as he worked it through her hair. She leaned back, letting him support her. Again, he rinsed it for her, being careful not to let any run into her eyes. It didn't take nearly long enough before he finished, sitting back.

"Don't stop," Olivia whispered, not thinking about what she was saying. Her eyes flew open and she was about to apologize when she felt his hands on her back, gently massaging her. She closer her eyes again, letting herself relax. The long walk in the cold, the sleeping on the couch, her fall…All of it melted away under his hands. She sighed contentedly, leaning back against him. His arms wrapped around her, holding her against him.

"You must be getting wet," she said.

"I don't care," Elliot replied, lips next to her ear. "I'm just glad you're safe."

Olivia opened her mouth, not sure what she was going to say. "Elliot, I–"

The lights flickered and went out, sending the bathroom into darkness.

-

Olivia jerked away in surprise, feet falling into the tub, water splashing everywhere. She screamed in pain, yanking her feet back out of the water and onto the edge of the tub. Elliot had jumped back, trying and failing to avoid the water. He pulled his shirt off, not wanting to get cold again, before feeling his way back to Olivia.

"Let's get you out of there," he said, finding her hand. "You've been in for too long anyway, and it's late enough that we should both get some sleep."

She slid over the side of the tub and onto the floor, feeling around for her towel. She found it and quickly covered herself, not caring that it was dark, or that she'd been sitting in front of him naked for the past half hour. "I'm not tired," she said.

"I don't care," Elliot replied, the fatherly tone finding its way back into his voice. "You've been through too much today, and you need to get some rest."

Olivia glared at him even though she knew he couldn't see it. He was a shadow amongst many others, as was she to him. "I think I can tell when I need to go to bed." She found her pajama bottoms on the floor and quickly pulled them on before looking for her shirt.

"Oh, really? Because you obviously couldn't tell that you didn't have the energy to make it up here," he snapped.

"I would've if I hadn't tripped over stuff you'd left lying around," she shot back., fingers closing around the soft fabric. Olivia took a deep breath, then sighed. "Look, this is stupid. We're going to be stuck together for who knows how long, and I'm not going to spend the entire time fighting with you. But I'm also not going to be bossed around by you, either. We're adults; we can do this." She pulled on her shirt, grateful it had avoided the water she had splashed everywhere.

She heard movement, then warm hands on hers. "Come on. I'll take you back downstairs if that's what you want."

She shook her head. "No. I don't want to deal with those stairs. If you could help me to bed, that'd be great, and then maybe a candle or a flashlight and a book. I saw a bunch downstairs."

"Whatever," he replied. He grabbed her hands and together they managed to navigate back to the bed, where he let her down gently. "Are you sure you don't want to sleep?"

She looked around, but there weren't any clocks to be seen. _Of course,_ she thought to herself. _The only ones that are working with the power on aren't digital._ "Do you know what time it is?"

Elliot looked down at his watch, straining to read it in the dark. "Quarter of eleven," he said. "Late enough."

She yawned. "I hate it when you're right," she mumbled, climbing under the covers, being mindful of her feet.

She could hear the smile in his voice as he said, "I know you do." He walked over to where she was curled up, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Sleep well."

Olivia fought with herself for a moment before asking, "Could you stay?" When he didn't reply, she added in a rush, "It's really cold because the heat didn't have enough time to warm everything up, and I can't sleep when I'm cold, so I–"

He walked around to the other side of the bed and climbed in, wrapping her in his arms for the second time that night. He was suddenly very aware of the fact that he hadn't put on another shirt, and how soft hers was.

"Thank you," she said softly, covering his hand with hers. "It's been a really long day, and–"

"Go to sleep, Liv," he interrupted.

"G'night."

"Night."

-

Olivia woke up in the middle of the night shaking, freezing and overheated at the same time. It was pitch black, and the arms wrapped around her only disoriented her more. She sat up, wiping sweat off her too-hot forehead as she remembered where she was and why she was there. Maybe it was just the fever, but she was suddenly spooked, and curled back under the comforters.

"Elliot, wake up," she said, shaking him gently. "Please?"

His eyes flew open, years of police training taking effect. He looked at her, he forehead shiny with sweat, her eyes too bright, and those spots of color were back. "Shit, he whispered, feeling her forehead. It was burning. "Did you just wake up?"

She nodded, finding his hand and squeezing. "Will you stay up with me? Just for a little bit?"

Elliot nodded, sitting up. "I need to find the Tylenol first," he said, stumbling out of bed. "I'll be right back. Stay here." He made his way downstairs, retrieved the Tylenol from the coffee table and came back up without incident. He shook out another four tablets, knowing he couldn't keep up this high a dosage for long, and gave them to Olivia, who swallowed. He left the bottle on the nightstand and climbed in next to her. "It'll take twenty minutes or so before it starts to help, but it really seemed to work before, so–"

Olivia rested a hand on his cheek, shocking him into silence. "I'll be fine," she replied. "It's just a bad cold."

He pursed his lips, not at all sure that was the case, but kept quiet. "Try to get some more sleep, okay?"

The feeling of unease hadn't left yet, and she bit the inside of her lip in uncertainty.

"Maybe we could stay up and talk for a little while?" she asked. "Just until the Tylenol starts working."

He eyed her carefully. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied quickly. "Never mind."

"No, it's okay," Elliot said, grabbing her arm to stop her from rolling over. "We can talk. Anything on your mind?"

The first thing to come to mind was his divorce. "How are things with Kathy? The kids?"

He sighed, rolling over onto his back. "Kathleen's barely talking to me, and the others are following her lead. Kathy's not much better." He paused. "I was supposed to have them for Christmas. They were going to pick me up at the airport tomorrow morning and we were going to spend Christmas Eve and day together before Kathy got them back for dinner."

"Elliot, I'm so sorry," Olivia said. "I'm sure they'll understand. They can't possibly think it's your fault for getting stranded in the snow."

Elliot snorted. "You don't know Kathleen."

She tried to rest a hand on his arm, tried to give him some physical sign of her understanding, but he had both arms behind her head, and she realized for the first time that he wasn't wearing a shirt. "I…I'm sorry," she repeated, knowing how lame it sounded.

Elliot sighed again, then turned back onto his side. "Can we talk about something else?"

"Yeah, of course," she replied, still a little shocked at how bad things had gotten. She had known that he wasn't getting along with Kathy, but she'd had no idea about his kids.

"How do you think we're going to get out of this?" she asked before realizing that was just as sore a subject.

"Liv, I don't know," he said, unconsciously putting his hand on her arm. He stroked it gently, thumb rubbing in small circles. "But we'll be fine, I promise. They'll come looking, and they'll see the car, and they'll check here. It could take a while, but they'll find us."

"Mmm," Olivia replied, relaxing. She wasn't sure what it was about his touch, or this particular night, but it was so calming, so reassuring, that she couldn't help but slide back into his arms, nestling her head between his chin and chest. He held her, continuing to rub her back through the sweater. She was still too hot, which worried him, but by her deep, steady breath, he could tell she was asleep, and the Tylenol would take care of the fever in a few minutes. He inhaled deeply, the smell of the shampoo mixing with the essential Olivia smell he was so used to. He drifted off, loving how she felt in his arms.

17


End file.
